


Starved

by hitmewiththatfanart33



Series: Sanders Sides Oneshots [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood, Human Sides (Sanders Sides), M/M, Making Out, Prinxiety - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:33:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24833155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hitmewiththatfanart33/pseuds/hitmewiththatfanart33
Summary: Virgil refuses to eat after being turned. In too much pain to go to school and lamenting his current state, he disappears from his friends' lives without a word, and his prince comes to the rescue. They find themselves in the most... peculiar position.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders
Series: Sanders Sides Oneshots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1796293
Comments: 6
Kudos: 149





	Starved

Every inch of Virgil burned and ached, and it felt like he was being torn apart. It was a sensation that seemed like it would be similar to someone pouring scalding-hot liquid down his throat, and it just resting there in his stomach, simply continuing to boil. That would explain the bubbling growling. But no: that was not the explanation for the tugging need that could so easily be fulfilled. It was because he had refused to eat since he'd been turned.

And thus far, he'd been successful. He'd holed himself up in his room, skipping school, and blamed it on being sick to his mother, but she didn't really care anyways. So he could do this. He could ignore being able to hear her heart pumping every time she got back from work, every night to where he wouldn't be able to sleep even if he could, and every morning until she left for the day. He could ignore this excruciating pain, and maybe, just maybe this would all go away. If he denied it long enough, it would go away, right?

Or he'd just waste away, and honestly, either way was fine with him. As long as he wasn't leeching off of other people.

He curled tighter in on himself, digging his nails into his scalp for a more manageable sort of pain, and slid his face neatly under the stack of pillows, pressing his feet into the mattress. Nothing would fix this. Nothing except the thing he wouldn't do, couldn't do, shouldn't do... He absolutely _refused_ to hurt someone, having to seduce or attack them, just so he wouldn't be so damn hungry.

Though maybe he should have been smarter about dropping off the face of the earth to wallow in his own agony when he was a well-known emo. He hadn't told anyone where he was, and he'd just suddenly up and disappeared from his three closest friends' lives without so much as a warning. Worrisome, right? Especially when you have a person like Patton in the friend group, who knows everyone's emotions _constantly_ , and is hyper-aware when someone is gone or acting weird. He almost gets paranoid— that is, if he weren't always so right all the time.

So of course there was loud banging on his front door because of how very stupid he was. He wouldn't last a month like this. It was surprising he'd even gotten this far without dying, really.

The booming fist to wood was all but ignored, Virgil not having the energy to go get it or to even care at all.

It was only when the frantic calls of his name began, that he snapped out of the haze just enough for the concern for the door to kick in. Was that... Princey? And from the sound of it, he seemed to be... crying. Why would Roman care?

"Virgil _please_. Virgil answer me. It's okay if you can't come to the door, just please tell me that you're in there, that you're just sick," he pleaded. It didn't sound like he actually believed Virgil was _just sick._ It sounded like he was bargaining.

If Virgil were normal, he wouldn't have been able to hear all the small, heart-breaking details to Roman's voice. Wouldn't be able to hear the palm pathetically slipping down the door. And everything in Virgil wanted desperately to rush to the door and throw it open, or call to tell Roman where the spare key was, but it was best that everyone just stay away from him. He was dangerous in every sort of way.

It was best he just be forgotten.

Unfortunately, Roman didn't give up that easily, apparently even when he was this grieved, unlike anything Virgil had ever seen in the dorky theatre boy before. There was rooting around on his porch, the moving of cheap decorations, fiddling with the metal mailbox to the left of the door, and the mat until he finally found what he was looking for. The key was jammed into its purpose, the sound of scraping and clicking as it was jiggled around in the keyhole with shaking hands. The door opened to Roman's intense relief, but to Virgil's dread.

He would find everything still in the house, luckily no moving boxes. Or maybe that was unlucky in his mind, as he made his way closer to Virgil's room, his heart thudding faster with every step that brought him nearer. "Virgil?" he gently called out again, praying for his worries to be proven wrong.

Surely Roman couldn't think he was dead, right? The entire school would have known by now, unless his mom failed to check on him, he supposed.

But god his voice sounded so sad. So weak and worn out and scratchy with tears, and yet again Virgil wanted to run to him and pull him close, but he _couldn't_. Even now he could hear the pumping of his heart and didn't know how long he could bear it without hurting Roman. It wasn't that easy, however, because his bedroom door was opening, and a certain boy was hesitantly stepping inside.

A loud, trembling sigh rang throughout the room. "Stormy? What's going on?" he gently asked, the only indication of his relief being the heavy breaths he took, the speed of his heart, and the fragility of his voice.

The hairs on his limbs rose, his skin tingling and spine almost vibrating, knowing Roman was looking at him. He couldn't see him, but he could feel him, could hear him, could _smell_ him. "Go away, Ro," he weakly ordered.

Even closer still he grew, making Virgil curse his stupidity. Brave, kind, reckless, stupidity. "Not until you tell me what's going on," he protested strongly, yet tenderly all at once.

Virgil kept quiet, only bringing Roman closer. God, he was mere feet away, thrumming with blood just beneath a small layer, and the smell was irresistible. It made his throat burn. He just wanted it to stop.

"No." The pillows were lightly removed from his head, and the dork gazed softly upon his face, though it was a frightened one at that. The back of his hand only lingered on Virgil's forehead for a moment— "God your skin is freezing."— before Virgil quickly scrambled away, getting tangled in the sheets and tripping over the side of the bed until he was completely backed against the wall. When he panicked, he always tended to freeze before he either put up a fight or fled. And sure enough, he'd fled. Hurting Roman was what was terrifying him in the first place anyways.

He found himself throwing his hands over his face, both on instinct, and because he was scared of what he might accidentally reveal. Ever since Roman had showed up at the door, his fangs had come out and would not go back in at all. Alongside that, his skin just _had_ to be paler than ivory, and his eyes were a reddish brown. Subtle differences, but differences all the same. Differences that made his chest heave.

"Heyheyheyheyhey," Roman rattled off, defensive and trying to calm Virgil down.

It didn't work. It almost did, but it _couldn't work_ because of the heartbeat and the warmth and the... god what was that smell? Was it blood? Or humans overall, or was it just Roman? Whatever it was, it was his new equivalent of warm bread topped with honey. That smell that always wafted through a house when something was almost done baking.

"Virge, what's going on? You didn't show up to school on Monday, and we've been blowing up your phone trying to get you to answer. Are you okay?" Roman calmly questioned, worry weaving its way through each syllable.

It was agonizing for him to be so close, just on the other side of his bed looking down at him, when all Virgil wanted to do was keep himself from harming anybody. Roman was making it so hard. Why was it so _hard_? He grabbed the sides of his knees to hug himself tightly, pressing his mouth to the tops of them— which made the cloth damp where they met in the middle, but he was also aware that tears were soaking his pants as well, so what did it matter?— while keeping his eyes trained on the human— no, not the human... Roman. He was trembling, and didn't trust himself to answer at all.

Roman sighed, giving him a sympathetic look. He seemed to be trying to calculate what was wrong with Virgil and what to do about it, and Virgil wanted to tell him— he really did— but he couldn't do that. Couldn't see the fear in his eyes. It was funny when they were at school— when he was a human just a few days ago— intimidating Roman and popping up behind him in the lunch room because their teasing gave him a giddy rush. It was nice to have someone to not have to be so fluffy and nice to, and not have it be serious or mean they actually hated each other.

He loved that with Roman, and now it might be gone.

"I'm coming over there, okay? Don't freak out," Roman decided.

_No. No, don't do that, Princey. Fuck. He was doing it._

Virgil let out a choked sob, making the theatre nerd flinch on his way around the other side of the bed. He just couldn't win could he? In order to get Roman to go away, he'd have to scare him or— or something, but he couldn't do that. Not yet, so he shot up and practically launched himself across the room with lightning speed, ruffling the sheets of his bed somehow even worse. It riddled his body with an intense wave of exhaustion, and he collapsed against the opposite wall.

His limbs felt stretched thin, aching and feeling something akin to noodles. He could barely move. And of course it all sourced from the burning in his stomach that wasn't caused by anything, rather caused by nothing, all of which could be fixed if he would just eat. "Roman, _please_ go away," he begged brokenly, nothing but a small lump bunched against a wall. A small, anguished lump.

Roman wasn't responding. Virgil managed to get his head to turn and look at him, blinking a few times at his clearly stunned face. Oh. Right. He wasn't supposed to be able to move this fast.

"You— you're..." he stuttered. Roman snapped his mouth shut, his brow drawing together, and his jaw setting once more. "Virgil, what is going on?! Please just answer me. I'll leave you alone if you just answer me," he bargained. It seemed he was either denying what he'd seen, or wanting to hear it from Virgil himself.

Virgil shook his head, an effort which shouldn't have felt like anything, but hurt immensely. Small, pathetic sobs shook him, and yet again Roman tried to come closer. It wasn't like Virgil could run this time, anyways. "I— I can't," he protested shakily.

"Yes you can," Roman argued gently as he stalked forward, holding his hand out steadily as if approaching a stray dog. No matter what he told himself, or how much that kind of posture was warranted, it still made him feel wild. It made him feel even more like an animal than before, and he just wanted this to all be over.

It hurt far worse to keep this secret than to have Roman fear him. "I'm gonna outlive all my friends," he whimpered. His eyes stung again as even more tears spilled over at the response those words gave. "If I don't keep starving myself, I'm going to outlive my friends." His breath hitched in his throat again, running the tips of his fingers under his eyes, the saltwater warm and sticky against his skin.

Roman was clearly rattled, as he had paused in his steps, finally lowering his godforsaken hand. "What do you mean? It's okay, you can tell me anything, you know?" he coaxed. Though he probably knew exactly what Virgil meant after seeing him practically blur across the room. He hadn't exactly gotten control over that yet.

Virgil couldn't say it. He couldn't do it, so he brought his face up to look directly into Roman's calming eyes like the prettiest, lightest spring leaf you'd ever seen, and opened his mouth. And Roman's face was exactly as he'd expected, though to see it somehow hurt worse. It just confirmed that he was a monster.

" _Oh_ ," Roman blurted out, his eyes wide and gentle face falling, taking a rapid step backwards. Yep. Roman, the bravest person he knew, was scared of him. He'd always admired Roman's bravery; wished he had it just the same. "Oh fuck... How— how did this happen?"

What?

He was— Virgil had just shown him that he had fangs, and Roman was _asking how it happened?_ He was so thrown-off that his tears seemed to cease, staring at Roman for the longest moment, unable to say anything. Roman beat him to a response by walking forward again to kneel before him, reaching out with both hands to try and... possibly cradle his face? Though Virgil rapidly stopped him.

"Don't," he snapped through terrified, starving eyes, swallowing thickly against the burning. He buried his head right back in his knees, almost slamming it there to keep Roman from touching him. If he touched him, Virgil was sure it would be over.

"Oh. You haven't eaten, have you? That's why you're not coming to school..." Roman realized. How was he so calm about this? Did he really pity Virgil that much that he wasn't even scared?

"I can't. I don't want to hurt anyone. I didn't ask for this; I— I don't want it," he sobbed, voice heavily muffled against his knees.

But Roman was an idiot. A reckless, kind-hearted, stupid idiot. An idiot who cupped his warm hand to the back of Virgil's neck, brushing his thumb softly behind the outline of his ear. He let out a shudder before tensing every muscle in his body because he could smell Roman's arm right next to his face, could hear his heart beating ever so close, and could feel his warmth, and the tensing was the only way to keep himself held together so he didn't rush forward and sink his teeth into Roman's skin.

The arm was finally withdrawn when Virgil let out a whimpering groan. It hurt so bad. So so bad. "Do you have a death wish or something?" he asked incredulously, still hiding in his own knees.

"No," Roman responded, "Do you? You can't just starve y—"

"I can," he interceded, "And I will, unless you don't leave me alone. If I hurt you, it's on you at this point." He was stubborn, this he knew.

"Well then I'm not leaving you alone. I'm sitting here until you come out of your shell, and let me let you bite me," he stated, a... smile in his voice? Why was he smiling? Idiot.

"I'm not... biting you," he forcibly protested, but his voice stuttered and trembled to reveal he wanted to say yes. Why was Roman even considering it anyways? Didn't he think Virgil was repulsive, scary, weird? Didn't the thought of the blood being drained from him sound terrifying?

The offer itself sounded incredible, sounded like he could just relax into the warm, thick liquid that would fill his mouth until the burning went away, Roman with him through the whole thing. The prospect of drinking blood didn't sound so bad when it was put like that. It was just like a kiss, right? A painful, bloody... kiss. Yeah, no.

"Yes you are," Roman retorted as if it were obvious, as if Virgil had been blatantly lying.

Virgil felt him shift to sit against the wall next to him, and he knew that this was his fate. He was going to end up biting Roman, not really having a choice in the matter. Finally, his head left his hiding place, blurting the question on his lips, "Why are you doing this?" Why would anyone willingly get their blood sucked unless they were one of those people with weird kinks? Roman wasn't the type to have weird kinks, unless you counted his addiction to ego-boosters.

"Because... You're starving yourself, and I'd do the same for anyone else," he said slowly, as if not sure that was the correct answer.

"I'm not anyone else, though. I'm a vampire," Virgil refuted, his eyes wettening yet again.

"I don't see how that's your fault or how that changes your personality in any way," Roman stubbornly stood by his decision, then quietly added, "You're still my emo nightmare."

He felt hopeless because Roman was right, but that still didn't mean he would hurt him. Especially not when he spoke that softly to Virgil. "I—"

"Virgil, just bite me. I promise we can talk later, but I can see how much you're squirming. It hurts, doesn't it?" he asked sincerely, eyes boring into him. How were they so soft?

A fresh wave of saltwater lapped onto the light shores of his cheeks, dripping onto his hands, and he wiped them away with a pained nod. Even now, it felt like he was on fire, the pain being amplified by how close Roman was.

Roman bobbed his head in a sort of confirmation of what he already knew. "Then bite me. What's a little bite compared to starving yourself?" Roman reasoned.

"Are you sure?" he questioned, eyes cast down away from Roman, just needing to double-check.

"I'm sure," he confirmed.

Much to Virgil's confusion, Roman began pulling off his shirt. The smell of him was so much stronger this way, and he cast his eyes away out of embarrassment, even though he already knew what Roman looked like without a shirt. It was a habit he was used to doing every time Roman went topless so that he wasn't caught staring. Virgil had no idea how long he could hold out, pressing himself against the wall so hard he felt like he'd break something.

"What are you doing?" Virgil hissed, not meaning to. He was just in a lot of pain.

"Don't want to get blood on my shirt, and I'd prefer you bite right here," he told him, tapping the space between his shoulder and neck. "Easier to hide... Alright, come here." Roman sat back against the wall, legs stretched out flat against the floor in front of him with his head turned to look at Virgil. He motioned with his eyes to his lap, patiently waiting on the impatient Virgil.

It would be a lie to say he didn't blush, realizing for this to work, he'd have to straddle Roman. And Roman wasn't even doing it on purpose, for it was the most comfortable way to get at the spot he wanted. So with only (surprisingly) a moment's pause, he lurched onto Roman's lap, looking him in the eyes once more, barely restraining himself from sinking his teeth straight into Roman's skin. They were but a breath away.

The theatre nerd was certainly startled by Virgil's speed, eyes widely staring into the vampire's. If seen from an outside perspective, their eyes beautifully complimented each other, Roman being the leaves to Virgil's tree. But he quickly recovered, lightly resting his hands on Virgil's hips in a way that made this feel less like an attack and more like an intimate dance, and the emo couldn't have been more grateful for anything or anyone in his life. For the first time in days, he felt secure. Safe. Calm.

Roman gave a nod that told him to go, and Virgil complied, carefully moving his head down to an angle at the curve of Roman's shoulder with his hand softly cupping the opposite side. The blond had been smart, choosing a place with a large vein that wouldn't be fatal. The breath of the one beneath him hitched, and Virgil let his fangs press into the warm surface. The sensation was heaven... Like water after an intense bout of thirst, similar to the feeling of stabbing a pen through the styrofoam. Surprisingly, Roman kept relaxed, only showing he was in pain by gripping at Virgil's hips a little tighter and making a quiet noise before he seemed to almost melt under Virgil, going still again.

It was in this moment that he was glad he could easily hear heartbeats.

Hot liquid filled his mouth as his lips came to meet the base of Roman's neck, and his fangs finally receded, his mouth comfortable once again. He continued to suckle— tugging, almost, in how starved he was, seeming desperate— swallowing every time his mouth was filled. It enveloped his entire inside with warmth. And soon this warmth spread and reached every inch of him until the burning was completely gone, instead being replaced by a glow, leaving an overwhelming wave of relief washing over him, the pain gone. It was the best feeling in the world. It got him high.

When he was sure Roman couldn't take much more than what he'd already done without getting hurt, Virgil's lips pulled away with a small, wet, popping noise. And with that pop, the world came back into focus.

First it was the quicker-than-normal heartbeat indicating a decent amount of blood loss, but not enough to be harmful. Then it was the sight of Roman's chest rather than the sound of it. He had been right to take his shirt off, for Virgil, being new to this, hadn't been able to catch all of the welling blood, and a little bit leaked down to his chest in a crimson river. Next it was Roman's face. The shirtless boy looked breathless and blushing, dizzy as if he'd just gotten out of a really good make-out session.

"Better?" he hummed, a near-loopy smile spreading across his face.

Virgil nodded, still too frozen in his gazing upon Roman to move. With the pain gone, he could actually focus, and everything seemed brand new, so of course he didn't want to get up. The cool air, the brightness of Roman's eyes, his small breath, his warmth, the small dots of dust visible in the light barely peeking through the window parallel to his bed... Those were just a minuscule amount of things he could sense.

Roman took a breath, eyes darting away in thought for a moment, leaving his mouth suspended open. He looked back to Virgil, decided. "You know you're freezing cold, right? But it's not a bad cold... it's comforting. Like when you lay against something cold in the summer," he brought up. That same genuine, constantly smiling look graced his face with the smallest tilt of his head.

Virgil still said nothing, too distracted, so Roman picked up the conversation again. "Can you—" he looked down at his chest— "Can you fix that?" he requested. Virgil wrinkled his nose.

He was too gay for this.

With a dark red face— enhanced now that he'd eaten— he ducked back down and ran his tongue up Roman's chest to catch the leftover drip so that it wouldn't get on anything. Even as he was in the midst of doing it, he could see and feel the human's chest heating up and tinting red. The amount of power he had... It made him smirk. He knew how easily Roman went into a panic over boys, and though they had a special sort of rivalry, Virgil was no exception.

Innocently, he met Roman's eyes again. Within the span of a few blinks, he had Roman stuttering. "I— I meant with like a towel or something, but that... works too," he squeaked.

It was Virgil's turn to get flustered. "Oh..." he quietly realized. Well that was embarrassing, and it was time to go somewhere to peacefully die in his humiliation. "How do you feel? Physically, I mean." He shifted in Roman's lap, still not moving from it.

Roman bit his lip, and his blush began fading, tilting his head side to side. "Um... A little lightheaded, a bit tired. My shoulder aches just a tad, but it felt... nice. You've gotta release some sort of chemical or something because I could hardly feel it, and it made me feel high," he responded, voice trailing off at the end just like how his gaze kept drifting to Virgil's lips. He cleared his throat. "You uh— you have..." he began, then gave up, "Oh just let me get it."

Before Virgil even had time to react, Roman had ran his tongue up his chin, planting his lips to Virgil's, sucking as if trying to get something off of them. He didn't even try to question it, simply cramming his fingers into Roman's hair and listening to how his heart beat fervorously. Roman's mouth pulled off of his for only a beat. Then he instantly went right back to sucking, this time capturing his top lip.

It was slow. It wasn't even hungry and quick, just slow as the theatre nerd wetly danced their lips together, taking the lead. It left Virgil entirely confused, breathless, and wondering what on earth had gotten into Roman. Unfortunately, Roman pulled away too soon.

"Sorry," he quickly apologized, "You just— you had blood all over your mouth. I got it all." He turned his head away from Virgil, looking to the wall perpendicular to the one they sat against in embarrassment.

_Yeah, sure, Princey. Real smoothe._

Virgil rolled his eyes with a small grin, using a gentle hand to pull Roman's chin to look at him again, leaning in, barely a breath away, their eyes mirroring each other. Then he closed the space, meshing lips softly together without any real purpose. It was just because he wanted to.

And as they parted once more, breath lightly tracing their faces, Virgil was feeling back to his mischievous self. "Sorry," he said with an impish smirk, "Your lips were bloody."


End file.
